


In Memory, To Infinity

by aria_vitali



Series: FFXIV Writing Prompts [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 10 Minute Writing Prompt, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Everyone Dies, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Future, Anger, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Carbuncle - Freeform, Courage, Dark Knight | DRK (Final Fantasy XIV), Death, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Fear, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gentleness, Grief/Mourning, Homesickness, Hope, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Loss of Parent(s), Love, Mutual Pining, New Beginnings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, Personal Growth, Prompt Fic, Rescue, Self-Acceptance, Sleepy Cuddles, True Love, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Violence, letting go, major angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24697879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aria_vitali/pseuds/aria_vitali
Summary: A collection of personal writing prompts featuring various NPCs. Sometimes features my personal WoL. Mostly originate from Tumblr asks.[note: I changed this work from the tarot card theme I had it set as before. I wasn't motivated enough to continue with the series, but it seemed a waste to get rid of it and too much of a hassle to transfer the content. So here we are. Apologies in advance! Moreover, this is where all my personal writing prompt entries will be going from now on. All the separate entries felt like was cluttering my page!]
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Hien Rijin/Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood, Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters
Series: FFXIV Writing Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616035
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	1. 0 - The Fool (Aymeric/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **0 - The Fool:** A card of **_new beginnings,_** opportunity and potential. The beginning and the end of the deck. A calling to commit yourself and follow your heart. A representation of the journey through life and a symbol of 'innocence'. **_New experiences and adventure._**

“Why did you become an Adventurer, Ia?”

Aria peered up from the tome that she was reading; rather, a copy of the memoirs that Lord Edmont had fashioned at the end of the Dragonsong War. Amethyst eyes met with aquamarines as the lord commander of Ishgard was gazing upon her curiously from his desk. With the both of them having naught the time to spend together, they would be found often as such - enjoying the company of one another amongst a myriad of menial tasks to be done. 

(At the very least, they would be afforded solace in silence. Not even the Twelve could intervene when someone last disrupted the Warrior of Light’s peace. Said individual had received an earful in true Lominsan fashion - after all, the woman had grown in the company of sailors and the fact that her brother’s affiliation with the Rogue’s Guild did nary a thing to correct her tongue until their mother started hounding on the both of them to speak less crudely.)

In turn, Aria had rolled over onto her stomach on the couch that she laid on, closing her tome and placing it on the side table that Aymeric was so generous to lay out for her so that her afternoon tea and snacks would always be within arm’s reach. The limb itself dangled off the edge of the cushion and the sight of it procured a grin on the man’s face, her lethargy a sight seen once in a blue moon that was quite a spectacle to behold.

“Why did I choose to become an Adventurer, you ask…” she echoed his question, more so to herself as she searched inward for the answer.

When Aria tilted her head with introspection, Aymeric released the documents he had in his hold in favor of eyeing her with fascination, an elbow propped to support the weight of his head as he leaned against his hand. 

He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t admiring the curves of her body in the wonder as to how her muscles aren’t as toned as he has seen in others with the amount of hours of training his beloved is wont to put in. He would be enacting slander if he were to deny the fact he was staring at her lips - a wondrous expression set to a beautiful pout and dyed in the color of peonies. He remembered stains she had painted across his skin with them when they were performing actions that would certainly have both of them smited by Halone for indecency, the thought running electricity throughout his spine.

No sooner did the Hyur come to her conclusion did she glance towards Aymeric and notice the tremble of his shoulders to indicate his shiver. It made her smile seductively, whether she realized it or not, as she lowered her head slightly so she may rest it on a pillow.

After biting his lower lip and clearing his throat, Aymeric glanced at her with firmness that couldn’t be denied. This prompted Aria to pout as she heaved a sigh and rolled onto her back so she could stare at the ceiling.

“I became an Adventurer for my father,” Aria answered.

When the woman took pause, Aymeric did not press or rush. He knew that the topic of her beloved’s late parents was a sensitive subject and the fact that she lost her role model - her mother - at the tender age of seven was nothing short of horrific. Just as how deplorable the thought of Garlean bastards being the ones to take a mother from her child was.

“When we were young, Mother and Father would always regale us stories of Coerthas,” Aria explained. “From Ishgard proper to the Sea of Clouds. They would always tell us that this land never used to be so cold, that it was inhabited by emerald greens as far as the eye could see - from the top of the highest hills to the lowest of sunken valleys.

When Mother passed and we moved to Gridania, Father’s stories would avoid speaking of anything related to Mother’s family. Instead, he would choose to describe the places he took Mother in secret. Where they shared promises, made vows and the nights they spent plotting to elope until the evening it actually happened. He admitted that he regretted such a thing many times when we were still living by the sea, but the sight of his children would always return him to the steadfast man I was proud to call ‘Father.’”

Aymeric noticed the way Aria’s eyes grew forlorn, the way she stretched her arm towards the ceiling as if she was trying to catch something only she could see. Her body had tensed and she was putting concerted effort to relax; as much as the lord commander wanted to rush and hold her, he also respected the manner to which she wished to get by the story with her own strength.

“And then… When he fell sick and was hanging by a thread, his last words to me, to both Brother and I, were for us to one day see the land to which they once called home. To bear witness to the sweeping vistas of Coerthas and its surrounding areas, to visit our birthright and make amends for their wrongdoings. _To ask Grandfather for forgiveness for stealing away the scion and only child of House Lukos._ ”

Aymeric felt a touch of cold settling in his stomach even at the sound of Aria’s chuckles and the sight of her placid smile. There was a foreboding emptiness that followed after the hurt of rejection, one that she must have felt when Lord Naivont de Lukos answered his granddaughter’s heartfelt apology with nothing but venomous anger.

“But, you know? After meeting Y’shtola, who led me to the Scions, and meeting so many others after that… It all became clear to me.”

Aymeric inclined his head. “What became clear, my love?”

Aria smiled. “It became clear why the Arcanists told me that I cannot be bound to one place for too long… There is much to see, many to meet. As the Warrior of Light, I can save these people - these people that I love with all my heart. But when I am simply an Adventurer, I can _befriend_ these people, share in their aches and troubles and live among their number as I would had I not been one of Hydaelyn’s blessed. So oft I forget…”

Aymeric’s heart fluttered at her excitement. Her smile was contagious and her hope even more so. This woman had the charisma and charm to persuade men and women alike, a natural born leader of peoples that urged them to be a better person than they are. The lord commander saw not a canary that always chirped the potential dangers, but a doting sparrow that sang of love and reminded everyone that they were all connected - to each other and to the Star itself.

“Well, allow me to thank you, dear Ia,” Aymeric replied.

Aria, pulled from her reverie, looked to her love inquisitively.

“Whatever for?”

Aymeric smiled. “For allowing yourself the new beginning.”

Aria’s eyes widened before she peered away. She allowed herself to hum contemplatively before she returned his smile with one of her own - one that reached her eyes and flushed her cheeks a shade lighter than rolanberries.

“I thank the stars for giving me another chance. And for my parents’ love for urging me to continue walking forward.”

The lord commander nodded, now satisfied with her answer, and returned back to his paperwork. In turn, Aria closed her eyes as she relished in how full her heart was after this reflection, bathing in the silence of this moment to meditate.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she heard the whispers of two.

  
“ _We love you. Always._ ”


	2. XVIII - The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **18 - The Moon** : A card marking illusion, **fear** , anxiety and intuition. Represents one's repressed emotion, inner confusion and comes out when you're **projecting fear into your present and future based on your past experiences.** You can bury these feelings deep within to avoid the dark shadows but pretending will only get you so far. Deal with them head on.
> 
> Or one word writing prompt, "kidnapping."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning below: Graphic depiction of violence and memories of torture.

Stryder has told Aymeric what Aria was like when she was angry. Combined with the fury he had seen when he fought by her side at the Vault and at the battle in the Ala Mhigan front, he has had enough experience to know what it was like.

(To say that she was angry at the True Brothers of the Faith was an understatement. Had it not been for her elder brother and her attendant threading words of comfort during the entire ordeal, Aymeric was sure that the entire establishment would have come crashing down from the fires and explosions caused by the egis and Dreadwyrm that she lorded over. However, such sentiments were only postponed, for he bore witness to the heat of hellfire in the sky and the suffocating nature of condensed aetherial energy that had engulfed all of Ala Mhigo castle during her battle against the Garlean prince- nay, Shinryu.)

Yet, the expression that the Hyuran woman displayed at this moment was far beyond anything that he could fathom. The sparkle in her eyes depicting a hero driven by hope had faded into the background and, somewhere through the haze, it was blatantly obvious that the shadows beneath her feet had stirred. Thus, it was hardly surprising that, in her shock, she had dropped the porcelain vase she had been carrying - one containing an assortment of snow white lilies and ruby red roses arranged in a beautiful bouquet.

“Repeat that one more time,” Aria pleaded, her voice carrying through the hall in a whisper and yet remained the loudest request she had ever made.

Aymeric didn’t fault Echoes - Aria’s most faithful - in the way he stiffened. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple and the manner to which he clenched his hands into fists didn’t escape the lord commander’s eyes. In turn, his gaze of sapphire and crimson inclined ever so slightly in an unconscious display of shame and guilt. “Rayne ‘Echoes’ Cowen didn’t know failure” is what the man would say, and proved it through his actions. 

Yet, in this single moment, it seemed as if he was ready to give up his life as penance.

“Lord Stryder… has been taken hostage, my lady,” the Hyuran monk repeated. “...And is being held captive within the Vault.”

The short moment of silence would have been enough for the air in the room to completely drain. The men held their breaths as they eyed the woman nervously, awaiting the response that she would give and for the brunt of her quiet fury to dissipate.

Unfortunately, they were unlucky.

Loud rapping could be heard from the front entrance of the Borel manor. The men turned towards the door of the den and soon, a manservant had entered with Ser Lucia in tow.

“My lord,” she saluted.

Aymeric nodded, acknowledging her entrance. “I assume this is about the kidnapping.”

Lucia’s eyes glanced towards the Warrior of Light, noting how her eyes were hidden behind her bangs, before turning her attention back towards her charge.

“Aye, my lord,” she answered. “They are demanding my lord to step down from office in exchange for Lord Stryder. No negotiations seem to be possible.”

“No negotiation is needed, Ser Lucia,” Aria responded.

All eyes turned on the Warrior in time for her to lift her head. The motion was enough to rustle her chocolate locks enough that her amethyst eyes peeked between the strands - void of color, filled with fire.

“My lady?” she inquired.

The company watched as the woman stepped over the shards of porcelain scattered across the floor towards the weapons rack. Aymeric, knowing immediately what was to come, froze in place before a katana was pulled out into the open. The weapon’s sheath was detailed akin to a butterfly’s wings - a boon she had been gifted by the new ‘Titania’ in the First. When he first laid eyes on it, Aymeric couldn’t help but become alarmed at the irony; this ‘King’s Blade’ fashioned with delusioned delicacy of a fragile creature contrasted the manner to which the blade took away life. Now, the notion was absolutely _terrifying_.

However, it paled in comparison to the suppressed fear and rage within the small figure. Aria did not respond to the first commander as she departed the Borel estate and remained silent as she marched to the northern sector of the Pillars. Knowing she wouldn’t listen to reason, the company couldn’t help but follow - in the hopes that they would, at least, be able to help her practice some measure of restraint.

At the entrance to the Vault, Temple Knights had stood at attention and in wait. Aymeric’s eyes darted to Lucia, who had stepped ahead to take command of the soldiers securing the perimeter. He didn’t doubt for a second that the woman was the one that dispatched the Congregation’s finest. It allowed for his concerns to remain predominantly on his lady love, who had strapped her katana to her side and was gripping its hilt tight enough to whiten her knuckle. Even as she glared towards the doors leading inside, she maintained some level of reason to sense a third party falling from the rooftops, landing with an array of clinking metal against metal in extravagant dragoon fashion.

“Estinien..!” Aymeric exclaimed.

The dragoon threw a passing glance towards the lord commander before he marched to Aria’s side. His gaze was fixed at a glare and his expression contorted to a scowl that could have shot beams through any unsuspecting nobleman’s flesh where they caught unawares.

“Your bloodlust is strong enough to make the rest of the knights dragoon uneasy, Aria,” he chided the woman with a growl, reaching up to grab on to her arm.

Aria swiped her arm away from her brother-in-arms before he could fasten a firm grip on her, snarling in his direction.

“If they were intelligent, they would realize their folly and surrender. Alas, I see no white flags and hear no apology.”

The Warrior stepped forward before she could be held in place. The motion caused Estinien to curse incomprehensibly before he peered over his shoulder towards Aymeric.

“Come, Aymeric, before she does something stupid.”

Aymeric nodded, turning to both Lucia and Echoes in silent request. When they both saluted him, the lord commander shifted to follow after his friend and lover, quickening his pace so as to not be left behind.

Though, even as no more than a few minutes had passed since she entered, the pair had been greeted to crimson stains across the marbled floor and woven carpets. Bodies laid here and there, robes soaked in blood and at its center was the Warrior found raising a friar in the air by the cloth of his collar. The blade’s edge was already dripping with the essence of life in such an unforgiving manner that fear took over, freezing both of her allies in place.

“Are you still certain that you wish not to tell me where he is?” the woman chimed in a hollowed tone, barren and frozen as a winter wasteland.

“Y-You… _outsider_ -!” the friar retorted as he coughed out blood.

Aria’s lips curled devilishly and the shadows stirred beneath her feet once more.

“Indeed, I _was_ outside,” she sassed, elongating the word as would a game master when asked if there were traps laid out in a dungeon leading to the players’ demise. “Terrible fortifications, if I do say so myself. If only you had the clockwork knights as you did when you compromised this place once before, hm?”

When the friar kissed his teeth and hissed at her, Aria’s gaze sharpened as would a hunter honing into her prey.

“Now then.” 

Aria tossed the man to the ground with indignation and enough force to send him bouncing once. As he was trying to recover, the woman marched right up to him and kicked him at his stomach hard enough for the wind to get knocked out of him and he was doubled over, coughing. 

When he yet refused to answer, Aria reached into her utility pouch and fashioned a small dagger with a blade discolored in favor of lavenders. Without hesitation, the woman kneeled down beside the friar and positioned the blade’s edge precariously close to the man’s neck.

“This blade is coated with a manner of toxin not native to this world. Its potency is enough to seize one’s heart in a matter of seconds with a simple knick. You understand where I am going with this, correct?”

Both Aymeric and the friar’s eyes widened, but only the former had the freedom to rush forward to grab the woman by her shoulder in an attempt to cease her actions.

“Ia, you must not-!”

Aria shrugged the lord commander off.

“Silence, Aymeric,” she ordered. “These men were foolish enough to test my patience by both _threatening you_ and _harming my brother_. These insects need to learn their place.”

“Devil woman!” the friar cursed.

Aria snorted. “Indeed? And yet I am continuously seen as one of your kind.”

“ _Seventh hell take you_!”

Aria rolled her eyes. “Then I will see you there soon-.”

“Wait!” another voice cried out.

Before Aria could plunge the blade of venom into the friar’s arm, she paused her original movement so she could search in the direction of the voice. A yalm away was a deacon lying on his stomach, using all his strength to hold himself up so he may speak.

“Un...derground,” the deacon gasped, coughing out blood. “He is in-.”

“The torture rooms underground,” Aria snapped, finishing his statement.

Aria tossed the friar aside as she stood to her feet. She glanced towards Estinien and leveled his glare with her own. In a short moment, his expression softened and he closed his eyes a second too long before leaning against one of the pews, arms crossed over his chest.

At this, the woman stepped to the side before a thought crossed her mind. As she had suspected, the friar had taken advantage of her mercy to attempt to pierce her abdomen with his broadsword, only for her to sidestep, grip her blade and slice the tendon on one of his legs. The man screamed murder that echoed throughout the hall and even Estinien - battle hardened as he was - visibly recoiled at the sound of the man’s anguish.

“There,” she snarled. “You should be incapable of moving now, let alone escaping.”

Without waiting for a response, Aria turned towards the opposite end of the hall and Aymeric followed in tow. He remembered the path to the torture rooms as if it was yesterday considering how the event still plagued his dreams to this day. The cobblestone staircase winding down, the scent of burning torches and the haunting sound of rattling chains echoing through the confined space.

(Aria wasted no time putting down the initial dissenters as they made their way to the lower levels. It was only then that Aymeric noticed, despite the depth of injuries she was inflicting, the woman was avoiding vital spots with utmost precision. Yet, this did nothing to soothe him and he instead took the lead after the fourth body fell and rolled down the staircase.)

Eventually, they found him - half naked and signs of both burns and whips littering his torso. Stryder Vitali, the Warrior’s elder brother, was held up by shackles to both his wrists and neck. His raven locks were tousled in a manner indicating struggle and strands scattered along the floor suggested his hair was pulled multiple times to get him to raise his head upward.

Off to the side, a wooden table stood with a small opened crate on the floor. When Aymeric’s eyes rested on it, his blood went cold at the sight of the tools of the trade. He heard his own grunts of pain in the back of his mind, the sound of a whip cracking and felt heated flames from candlelight pushed dangerously close to his skin. It was dizzying and had he not centered himself in preparation earlier, he was sure he would grow unsteady at the mere thought of what may have occurred.

Aria’s voice broke the lord commander from his reverie when she addressed her kin.

“For how long were you planning on waiting?” she asked in a surprisingly calm volume.

It took a moment but through the darkness, Aymeric saw the way the Hyuran male’s chest lifted before he released a broken chuckle.

“I should be the one asking that.”

“Were you just not going to attempt to fight back?” she continued, her voice raising an octave.

“I knew you would come,” Stryder responded as he lifted his head up to offer a weak smile.

“And what if I decided not to?!” she shouted, her voice ringing down the hallway as she slashed at the chains shackling her brother to the wall. Without being bound, the man collapsed to his knees, his figure relaxing against the stone wall behind him.

Stryder released another low chuckle. “My sister… is not so cruel…”

Before the man’s figure could slide and fall to the ground, Aria had rushed forward and caught him within her arms. She held him close, eyes glinting with unshed tears.

“You idiot…”

As the siblings held each other, Aymeric heard footsteps coming from the stairwell. Just as he was to brandish Naegling, he saw Estinien’s figure appearing through the door. The dragoon glanced towards Aria and Stryder before turning back to Aymeric.

“The Vault is secure,” he reported. “The remaining dissenters have been rounded up and are being marched to the Congregation.”

Aymeric nodded, but when he was in the beginnings of urging Aria to part with her brother so that Stryder could be healed, Estinien reached out and held him by the shoulder. The lord commander peered towards his friend in time to see him shake his head. In silence, he allowed the dragoon to lead him out of the room and back to the upper floor of the establishment.

“Aria will heal him,” Estinien assured Aymeric.

“But-!”

Estinien crossed his arms. “I have never seen Aria so terrified, Aymeric. ‘Tis sensible a reaction since she lost both her parents, so give them some time.”

Aymeric inclined his head, clenching his hands into fists. There was nothing that could be done, he thought. Aria was also mortal and she experienced the same emotions as anyone. Where he found anger, there was also fear and sorrow. What could he do to ensure that he doesn’t see that side of her ever again?

He steeled his resolve. He was the lord commander.

He will ensure that this doesn’t happen again. To her or anyone else.


	3. A Single Word (Haurchefant/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or one word writing prompt, _"everlasting."_  
>  Or phrase writing prompt, _"Until then, my friend."_

If there was a word that Haurchefant could use to describe the Warrior of Light, he immediately knew what he would use.

She was an entity beyond words, a kindred soul that went beyond the primary facet of a soldier’s duty. A benevolent deity that sought to bring about prosperity whilst knowing she was but a single creature - a mortal creature besides.

The Warrior never betrayed those that searched for solace within her. Her stoicism, her confidence, her hope for the future inspired those around her to be the best that they can be. She left no one behind, reaching out her hand in an attempt to save whoever she could whenever she could - even towards the ones that threw nothing but lies and slander her way.

Then, when she would lock herself away behind closed doors, she would spill her heart out between parchment sheets; a written vernacular of her journey that truly seemed to be unending. She would let loose the tears and cry for the ones she had lost, for those that she could not save. She would berate herself, lecture herself, to be stronger, faster, wiser so she would not lose any more.

As Haurchefant watched on from Halone’s halls, he continued to believe in her. He once told her that should she begin to lose heart to look for him in the stands, that he would cheer so loud for her that she would wonder how she could have contrived to doubt herself. A promise long ago made, one that he continues to uphold from where he argues is the best seat in the house.

Thus when the time came that she needed help to save a friend, he took it upon himself to rush to her side. To remove the accursed corruption that defiled the body of a beloved friend whose time has not yet come. Though he believed she could not hear him even as their gazes locked upon their touch, he still parted his lips in his unyielding desire to let her know:

> _I am cheering for you. Always._

He praised blessed Halone for giving him one last chance to lay gaze upon her features up close - the sparkle of her eyes, the tenderness of her lips, the curves of her warrior’s body. 

However, in his moment of distraction, her expression depicted a woman who made him a man heard and his eyes locked with hers. Before he could confirm, the brightest light shone to mark the end of the struggle. 

Marked another farewell.

Though, it was only a half-truth. A half-truth because he knew a farewell consisted of forever saying goodbye and he knew that if he had to spend eons waiting for her to join him on the other side as she lived her life, then he will. He resolved to wait and knew such a wait was worth it. She will surely grace him with a plethora of stories of her adventures as they start over without harsh realities to bar their path in this afterlife.

If, by some cruel machination of fate, this was not to be so, then he prayed. He prayed to Halone, to the Twelve, to any god willing to listen to his plea - that if there was such a thing such as rebirth, that he may be allowed to be brought into another time and another place with you by his side. He has never prayed so hard during his life, but it’s the one thing he truly wishes for.

As he turns to leave once more, he graces her with a smile filled with pride for it is what fully encapsulates how he feels as he gazes upon her right now. By the Fury, he was _most_ proud of her - for overcoming the pain, the loneliness and for being able to become the hope incarnate that he waxed lyrical to his father about all those moons ago.

If wondrous Halone were to ask him what it is that he sees in her, he would answer with but a word; a single word that he has kept and used to describe her countless times. She was _everlasting_. Like a forest burnt down, the ashes of the eld would serve to rejuvenate the buds, nourishing the future generations and thus giving them the ability to grow and stand proud once more. Her enduring passions, hopes, dreams and deeds will remain in stories, ballads and memories alike.

The Warrior of Light. Evergreen. _Everlasting._

Before he is returned to watch and wait, he speaks to her once more.

This time, he knows she heard him.

* * *

> _Until then, my friend._

The breeze brushed against her skin as she continued to keep her gaze heavensward and a gentle voice reached her in the tiniest of whispers. She felt a warmth as she watched the motes of light dissipate back towards the skies, the words echoing through her mind as if ingraining themselves into the very precipice of her soul. 

She knew what she saw. The memory of two figures that served their purpose and sought the end to a chorus of violence that seemed eternally unending.

What reached her the most was the way her heart was filled - with warmth, kindness, confidence and, most of all, love.

If she hadn’t seen what she did but a moment ago, she would think it a trick of her mind, but she knew now. She now knows and pledges never to squander what was given to her. To love and allow herself to be loved in turn. She smiles.

“Until then, my friend…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Lani of the [Book Club](https://discord.gg/fh4dRgC). I'm not sure whether you're a Haurchefant-shipper, but if you read this, I hope that this was able to make you smile a little bit wider. :)


	4. The Blackest Night (Aymeric/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> micro story writing prompts, _'too loud'_ and _'trembling hands'_  
>  or personal writing prompt, _'burning'_.

The pumping within her veins was setting fire to her entire body. She felt the burns too keenly, both the ones that marred her body moons ago as well as the ones imprinted into her soul. It was too much, far too much, for a single individual to handle and yet the gods above decided that this was to be her fate.

Aria chuckled at the prospect of such, laughed at the idea that the cruel machinations of fate decided that she were to undergo a series of pain and torture. The voices of those that she has slain echoed from the deepest part of her heart, from the side of her that she - at first - wished never to see surface again.

The smiles of her friends, blood seeping from the corner of their lips. The anger of the fallen that she had slain as she did what she must.

_The hopeful eyes of their loved ones, wondering when the victims would ever return._

It was loud, much too loud, within her head. The last wishes, the curses, the sight, sound and smell of death accompanying her blade. Each added to the throne of bones lying in her wake along a liquid red carpet of the blood offering they have given - whether they were aware of it or not.

How could she end this? How could she make this go away? _When will the burning stop?_

A cool breeze wrapped around her in a protective bubble, soothing the self-inflicted, imaginary pain as if it was there. The Hyuran woman peered up, without full awareness her cheeks were stricken with tears, and saw the ghost of two figures at her side.

Of the two figures she created, made manifest of her heart.

Fray encircled his arms from behind her, his hands resting atop of hers from where she gripped the handle of her claymore. The trembling she wasn’t aware existed dissipated upon realization, upon the comfort of a kindred spirit that she had forgotten was always looking out for her.

“‘Tis alright,” he said, a rough voice echoing in her mind in a gentle whisper. “Just a little longer. We are with you.”*

Myste, as small as he was, stood in front of Aria with arms outstretched, as if using himself as a shield to protect her. The same protective bubble she had initially felt glowed softly in patterns akin to the starry skies of the heavens above. The light in the dark, the beacons of hope in the blackest night.

“You remember, don’t you?” he asked of her, peering over his shoulder to present her with a kind smile. “Think of us in your darkest hour. We love you. Forever will we love you.”

Tears further spilled from the woman’s amethyst eyes and she felt her body ready to rack with sobs.

Nonetheless, this wasn’t the time. The threat of war loomed before her, here on the front lines of Ghimlyt Dark, and her fellow Scions were left behind, caught unconscious by whatever affliction has banished them to a land of dreams - if that’s what’s even keeping them from returning.

A magitek colossus appeared before the woman and swiped her aside, sending her flying back half a dozen yalms. While the pain was minimized thanks to the blessings given to her by those she holds dear to her heart, it didn’t stop her from coughing up splotches of blood onto the ground.

In the distance, there was a cry, one from a voice she had grown accustomed to hearing in a land of ice and snow. Simply hearing it growing closer and closer fueled the fire within, reignited by the reminder given to her by the deepest part of her soul.

“Aria!” the lord commander shouts. “Aria, are you alright-!”

Before she answered, the Hyuran woman turned with her claymore gripped tightly in her hands and _Plunged_ towards the colossus that had knocked her away. Rejuvenated with energy and using the pain mitigated from her by the memories of those deep within, Aria positioned her body to take down the magitek armory with a _Bloodspiller_ , finishing it off with an _Edge of Darkness_ for good measure. The moment that it crashed to the ground was the moment that Aymeric had finally reached the woman’s side.

“By the Fury!” he exclaimed, his ice blue eyes wild with worry. “Fall back, we will hold the line.”

Aria’s lips curl to a grin — up to the challenge and not without a tinge of madness as one of greatness is wont to have.

“Nay, Aym, I would fight for a bit longer,” she answered in kind.

Aymeric’s eyes widened. “But, Ia, you are injured!”

“And I would fain accept a chirurgeon’s ministrations after this last push!” she responded. The Warrior of Light then turned towards the advancing battalion led by the lord commander, recognizing symbols marking different houses of the Pillars — including her own.

(Truly, the use of a crimson lily outlined in gold by House Lukos could not have been any more ironic for her. A Warrior that has seen and shed rivers of blood borne into a house specializing in conjury and the healing trade, representing the purity and sanctity one's faith in blessed Halone should have, was enough to make the woman feel as if she deserved not her birthright. 

Moreover, their blatant renouncement of her father, a lowborn with an unknown name nor a family of his own, was enough to anger her so much that she refused in-depth dealings with them, leaving it to her elder brother. 

Not that he would have it any other way, for Stryder would not suffer to have his little sister take on more burdens than she already bears. This is in despite of the fact that his sister’s innate talent for the arcane was not unlike the scion of Lukos, their late mother, which made her the ideal heiress to the name in comparison to her fool of a brother that couldn’t weave aether to save his life.)

At this, the soldiers saw her eyes sparkle — as a stout leader in her own right encouraging them with utmost effectiveness — and felt courage welling within their breast.

“One last push, fighters of freedom and justice!” she rallied, raising her claymore towards the Garlean line before her. “Remember Carteneau! Remember Rhalgr’s Reach and Doma Castle! Remember the pain you have suffered and allow it to be your strength for this assault! I yet stand with you and I will not suffer to have them take what we have reclaimed!”

The soldiers released a roaring battle cry before marching forward, the effect of the Warrior’s words giving them the courage needed to continue on this path. Before she could rejoin the main host, she sensed Aymeric’s watching eyes and he continued watching her worriedly. Overshadowing it, however, was a hint of admiration and a single question slipped his lips — one she has been asked many times before.

“All the pain that you have experienced… how is it that you are still able to stand, unbreaking?”

Aria stared at him for a moment before a helpless smile passed her lips.

“Among the greatest forces on this star, man is wont to fall to fear quite easily. It can act as a cold mistress in the abyss, seeking to freeze you whole before engulfing your very core. Yet, as Haurchefant once told us, is there not a fire hot enough to reforge the broken blades within our hearts? For where there is fear, there is cowardice. Despite this, there is in equal parts _courage_ , Aymeric. The courage to take from this abyss the strength we need to push onward and the wisdom to know that taking more will lead us to oblivion.”

Aria’s gaze darted to the sky, her expression growing forlorn. When she had her fill, she turned to Aymeric once more.

“I believe in our people, Aymeric. As you have always done and as I know you ever will. Have faith and it will carry you farther than you think.”

Before Aria could say a word more or Aymeric could respond in kind, a voice called out to the Warrior of Light — the one belonging to her attendant, Echoes, who was part of her squadron sent to spearhead through enemy lines as an irregular unit. 

They nodded towards each other and as she was about to depart, Aria raised an arm and stretched it towards her love. Soon, he was surrounded by an aetherial shield that moved as he did, surrounding him in a blanket of stars and encompassing him in a certain kind of warmth that he feels when it comes to her.

“Have care, Aym,” she urged of him. “And no noble sacrifices — I would like to meet our children, after all.”

With a wink, Aria turned her back on the lord commander and sprinted off, leaving behind a blushing lord commander before the first commander reached him.

“My lord?” Lucia called, baffled he was left on his lonesome on the battlefield.

Aymeric smiled and shook his head. “‘Tis of no issue, Lucia. I must work twice as hard now.”

Though Lucia was confused, she didn’t question her lord and followed his lead. In the meanwhile, he felt the aether sifting around him like a warm hug by a hearth on a cold winter’s night. It was just like Aria to give him a boon, unbeknownst to the others so as to not mark indications of ‘favoritism’. It was just like her…

...this method of saying ‘I love you’ without saying the words outright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *inspired by [this](https://yildraws.tumblr.com/post/187242205155/hold-on-just-a-little-while-longer-still-stewing) lovely comic.
> 
> I have been more active on [Tumblr](https://ffxiv-ariavitali.tumblr.com/), with more shorts, oneshots and answering requests if you would like to see more of me.
> 
> If you're a writer looking to join a welcoming community of like-minded FFXIV players, look no further than the [Book Club](https://discord.gg/fh4dRgC)!


	5. Purrs (G'raha/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A [Tumblr prompt](https://ffxiv-ariavitali.tumblr.com/post/623315525731336192/mat-i-ask-from-graha-tai-having-his-ears-massaged) that I just couldn't resist <3

He’s doing it again. The thing that he does when he’s exhausted. Ergo, he is swaying back and forth and running on nothing but caffeine in his veins.

Your eyebrows were twitching at the sight of him within his tent. Rammbroes certainly wasn’t joking when he pleaded with you to help G’raha get some sleep. For him to have stayed up for over _five suns_ because of a new set of tomes excavated from the Crystal Tower... it was understandable, yes — and a part of you secretly admired the man for his persistence — but enough was _enough_.

You prepared yourself as you marched right up to the Miqo’te. Even as you stomped your feet, he didn’t as much bat an eye considering how focused he was on the text. You heaved a heavy sigh before grabbing on the collar of his shirt to give him a rough tug — rough enough that he had fallen from his seat.

“What was _that_ for?!” G’raha hissed, rubbing the back of his head.

“ _That_ was a warning,” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. “Rammbroes said you haven’t slept in five days.”

G’raha snarled before crawling back towards his desk, reaching out to grab the tome so he would be able to continue reading on the ground where he sat.

“I am _perfectly well_ , thank you,” he sassed, flipping the pages in search of where he was before you had interrupted him.

You exhaled a heavy breath once more. The man was stubborn to a fault and you wouldn’t withhold the fact that there was a part of you that was aching if asked. Yet, for the you that constantly pushed yourself when needed because the hopes of several thousand souls are on your shoulders — do you have the right to judge him?

Perhaps not, but you know exactly where such stubbornness will lead if left unchecked.

Once more, you reached out to him, but rather than forcibly pull him away, you wrap your arms loosely around his neck, resting them comfortably over his shoulders. You feel G’raha’s figure going stiff at the contact and with the way his arms scrambled to find purchase, you certainly caught him off guard.

“M-My friend, what is-?”

“Do you _want_ me to beg? Is that it?” you asked, a breathy whisper against his ear.

You felt his body shiver against your own as you lean against him and you praise the Twelve because, _finally,_ you have a chance.

You lift your hands and perform the sacred act, the one your other Miqo’te friends have advised you would be a surefire way to subdue G’raha Tia no matter his mood. You scratch his ear affectionately.

“Th-That is not-!”

As expected, the man almost melts in your arms as he goes limp. Any tension from his initial surprise faded away and the rumbling from his chest against yours was enough indication; he was _purring_.

_Cute_ , you think and continue onward. Once you were satisfied with giving due affection to his ear, you switched for scratching his scalp. The purring remained constant, only pitching for but a moment when you had transitioned between ear and scalp, but returned to its steady rhythm.

That is, until it had stopped altogether.

Moderately startled, you peer down towards G’raha to see if everything was alright and, sure enough, the man had curled himself into a ball within your arms. His eyes were closed and he was murmuring in his sleep. Your ministrations did wonders, almost like a magic trick, and you couldn’t be any more proud of yourself.

Slowly and carefully, you motion to lay G’raha on his cot so you would also be able to retire for the evening. As you were to pull the covers over him, his mumbling became slightly louder and you leaned in to listen...

...listen as he calls your name. Calls your name with such a content smile as he curled up within himself.

Cheeks flaring a fiery red, you immediately tuck him in and withdraw from his tent. You turn to make your way for Mor Dhona, a flustered mess that you were, while praying no one saw you in such an embarrassed state.

Unfortunately for you, Cid was present as you were leaving. The sight of your expression gave cause for him to eye G’raha’s tent before he shrugged helplessly.

“Young love,” he says to himself with a wicked smile.

At least Garlond has something to blackmail you with if he needs a field tester for any future prototypes he invents.


	6. Animal Therapy (Alphinaud & WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt: A stressed WoL being treated to a certain Leveilleur's summoned companion

Your unceremonious collapse onto the chair and table upon your return to the Rising Stones was enough cause for concern in Alphinaud’s eyes. He approached you warily, unsure of the mood that you would be in. The wonder of whether you would be upset was enough to dissuade him from an abrupt approach.

“My friend, are you alright?” he asks, wringing his hands together.

You roll your head over so you would be able to better see him and you do your best to give him as bright of a smile as you can give. 

You were exhausted to the bone from your adventures, from the menial tasks unknowing merchants would give you that has Thancred teasing you (so much so that he gives you the title of ‘Monarch of the Fetch’, a rendition of another title you acquired from a certain woman in the Far East). Yet, it wasn’t enough to stop you from continuing to do what it is that you do - for the Adventurer’s blood runs thick in your veins.

Alphinaud, ever the worrier, steps closer to you and a part of you puts his hovering in the back end of your mind. You were close to falling asleep but there was a gnawing within you that was making you restless. Was it the impoverished children in Ul’dah that was making you wary? The existence of the illegal trappers in the forests of Gridania? The code breakers in Limsa Lominsa that were trafficking banned goods in the black market?

Before your mind could delve even deeper, you felt a nudge against your cheek that brought you back to your senses. You cringed away from a soft, glowing light and if you weren’t as tired as you were, you would have jumped from your seat in retaliation.

Nay, rather than it be an enemy, it was none other than Alphinaud’s moonstone carbuncle that came out to play. It eyed you curiously, but after all that you have gone through with Alphinaud, it knew you to be a good person; a friend.

So, the carbuncle waddled closer towards you and rubbed its head against your body and, feeling your fatigue melting away in an instant, you reached out to bring the soft and adorable companion closer to you. The carbuncle accepted easily as it returned your affections, purring the entire time besides.

Alphinaud smiled at the sight of your glee as he closed his grimoire, latching it to his belt once more. His heart swelled at your bright expression, your flushed cheeks and the sound of your laughter soothed his own aching heart. There were many times he has questioned himself — questioned his worth and whether or not he was no more than a distraction on the battlefield. At least, in this manner, he would be able to help you his own way.

Then, as he was wondering whether or not you would be amenable to grace him with your smile, he sees his carbuncle glance at him with a knowing glint. A challenging glint. In seconds, it’s purring louder in a vulnerable way that has you melting and hugging the creature more. 

Alphinaud is mortified.

At what point today was he fighting for your attention?


	7. Kindling (Aymeric/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or OTP prompt, _'burning something together'_ , inspired from a late night confession between my bf and me.

There was a wonder flourishing within Aymeric’s chest upon his return to the manor. It was unusually quiet, the routine bustling within his home from whatever manner of activity his beloved was wont to do non-existent. The lord commander was of half a mind to call on the head manservant to question whether Aria had stepped out for the evening until he heard the crackling of the hearth within the den.

Sure enough, when he approached the room, he found the small Hyuran woman sitting on the carpets in front of the fire. A cotton blanket cascaded from her shoulders, a sight he was thankful for considering the plummeting temperature, as she gazed upon the flames intensely. Fearing that he would startle her, Aymeric knocked upon the door frame to catch her attention.

Hearing the sound, Aria peered over her shoulder and smiled at the sight of her love.

“Welcome home,” she greeted him, lifting a hand in the air for a brief wave.

Aymeric’s chest swelled at the sight and he nodded. He slowly approached the woman as she turned her attention back towards the hearth, kneeling beside her when he was close enough.

“What is on your mind?” he asks, knowing the woman well enough to pick up on the signs of her brooding.

Aria hummed in response and procured an envelope from where it laid on the floor at her side. Aymeric eyed it curiously before she allowed a soft chuckle to escape her lips. After waiting a bated breath, the woman flicked her wrist towards the fire, tossing the parchment to set it ablaze—kindling to the flame.

“Ia..?” the lord commander called out, his brows knitting with worry.

Aria shook her head, locks of her hair swaying along with the motion.

“I have come to terms with some inner demons,” she answered just as she tossed another letter in.

Aymeric inclined his head. “What may that be?”

There was a moment of silence as the woman closed her eyes for the briefest moment. He did not rush her, for there is a certain power to words that he knows all too well; they have the strength to allow one to keep marching forward or give enough grief to end one’s life. For the woman carrying the hopes and dreams of half a dozen nations and then some besides, it was understandable that she would have her moments of self-reflection.

When she opened her eyes again, she beamed at him with utmost affection and gratitude. The emotions reached her eyes for glazing over the amethyst gems was a layer of unshed tears she was fighting desperately to hold back.

“Simply... I was thinking about you,” Aria confessed with a reverent voice common to the most firm believers of blessed Halone. “And what you have done for me.”

Aymeric, a little surprised by the sudden admission, inclined his head. He noticed the way that the woman’s body began to shake and so he adjusted his position so that he may sit comfortably beside her. When he was satisfied, he collected the woman in his arms and she willingly allowed herself to maneuver so she would be able to sit on his lap.

“Pray tell—what has this undeserving man done to earn the privilege that is your company?” Aymeric asked, whispering intimately so as she would be the only one to hear, as he lifted his hand to run his fingers through her hair.

Once more, Aria retrieved another letter from the rather large pile and tossed it into the embers.

_“...You gave me the strength to stop chasing after a ghost.”_

Aymeric’s eyes widened and the reply was enough to get him to freeze in place. Such a bold and earnest declaration had his heart soaring, both adoration and honor filling his entire being in the matter of seconds.

He knew that Aria had loved Haurchefant before he passed. However, he had learned that before him was another, her first love, that shattered her heart in a way undeserving of a woman with the gentlest soul and proceeded to scatter the remnants of her across an abyss. He knew that nightmares of said person haunted her dreams, plagued her thoughts when she would acquire respite, like a ball and chain made to render the strongest person he knows weak and vulnerable.

For him to be the key the frees her from her bindings...

Aymeric inclined his head and pressed his lips gently against Aria’s forehead. He couldn’t withhold the sudden trembling of his frame as dozens of emotions assailed him at once, but she did not begrudge him for it. When he pulled her closer against him, she allowed it all the same. Lifting her arms up, she wrapped them loosely around his neck in mutual affection, breathing in his scent and taking comfort in it.

When Aymeric was done, he laxed his hold on her and reached out for the next letter just as she did. With her hand in his, they tossed the kindling into the fire; each one a bridge burnt and a shackle tossed.

As the fire grew, so did their love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All hail the [Book Club](https://discord.gg/fh4dRgC) for giving me enough coupons to fuel my inner desires :3


	8. A Letter from One to Another (Crystal Exarch | G'raha Tia & WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally found on [Tumblr](https://ffxiv-ariavitali.tumblr.com/post/623754704183263232/a-letter-from-one-to-another-i-wonder-if-you).

> _“I wonder what you were thinking when you found me once again. After all those toiling years of solitude after traversing the unknown. After landing in a realm far from reach in order to save my life._
> 
> _I wonder how desperate you were when you reached out to me, masking calmness above a silent plea. To see your inspiration hale and whole, to see her fighting to return to a path that will only lead to oblivion._
> 
> _I wonder how afraid you must have been for the time you spent in between. Never knowing whether your plans would work. Knowing only you are the only one left that could bear the burden of a history unwritten._
> 
> _I wonder how you must have felt while watching as I beheld your people’s work. You must have not thought yourself a hero in your own right, for the one in front of you was all that mattered. All you could compare yourself to._
> 
> _You may not know this, but I thought it was beautiful; the way that you have survived, thrived, and became a beacon of hope to those you have shepherded all these years.”_
> 
> _I wonder if you know that I already knew. Knew that I had a sneaking suspicion as to who you were. The Tower and its contents... I remember them all. And if this Tower was the same as the one plucked from the Source, he would be here. You would be here.”_
> 
> _I knew that you knew, as well, as I reached out for you in pain. Because you have read my story, you know my history. Not just as my savior, but as my friend. This was your answer, one that you had come up with on your own.”_
> 
> _Because when you smiled to me at the time you thought was your end, you did so because you remember his words; that a smile better suited a hero. And even if the world marks you as a villain..._
> 
> _...you would have always been a hero in mine."_

**—an excerpt from a letter from one hero to another.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten points to the [Book Club](https://discord.gg/fh4dRgC) for outstanding membership, cooperation and encouragement.


	9. The Reason (Aymeric/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sensory prompt: _'reflections in glass'_. Inspired by Nakashima Mika’s cover of ‘The Reason I Wanted to Die’ by Amazarashi

The small figure had stood to her feet from where she was originally sitting. Auburn hair cascaded down her back in waves, some locks spilling over her shoulders, as her gaze was found wanting to peer curiously through the windowpane. The light of lamps scattered her sights like stars across the earth—across the cobblestone, concrete and painted granite of the Pillars—as she watched the people meander about in their daily lives.

The lord commander, wearing his evening tunic at the expectation that there was no one left to expect, peered over his shoulder towards the woman from where he was sitting at his desk, his attention turning away from the document he was reviewing for the House of Lords. He watched her silently, gauging what it may have been that caught his warrior’s attention, as she lifted a delicate hand to press against the glass.

Aria’s gaze lowered ever so slightly, a telltale sign of longing he knew not the origins of. In a way, Aymeric was pondering whether she craved not the silence of domesticity; the world pulling the Hyuran woman with a bigger heart than she lets on in every direction, in every battlefield it could possibly throw her in. However, he saw not the signs of stress, but contemplation. A desire to understand herself once again when she doesn’t have a weapon in her hands. 

A desire to remember who she was when she isn’t risking her life to save theirs.

In the background, a soft crackle could be heard from the burning hearth, as the man abandoned his little task to stand behind the woman. His arms slowly encircled her waist, hands clasping and resting gently over her lower abdomen. The notion caught the woman’s attention for a brief moment, but she accepted it all the same. 

Her figure relaxed against his own as she leaned against him, words unspoken as their eyes met in the reflection of the glass window. Amethysts to aquamarines, of the evening and morning skies. As if the glass was a mirror to their truest selves, they both saw the burns covering the other. The scars suffered onto their hearts because they truly wished for the best in their respective places. In finding their reasons to fight, they also found their reasons to give up along the way.

Yet, what they have found instead was beyond that. For where one found the reason to continue living, the other is living because they are the reason why.

The sentiment shared between the two gave cause for them to smile at each other, worry and exhaustion melting away from the comfort of their affections. For now, they will enjoy their piece, for they must take happiness from wherever they can. Such is their lot, their die of fate cast before they were even aware of it.

Nonetheless, so as long as they have each other, they will have hope.


	10. Unrequited (Emet-Selch/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://ffxiv-ariavitali.tumblr.com/post/624650287073853440/i-hope-you-dont-mind-an-au-being-used) request for a coffee shop AU with CEO Emet-Selch and barista (ambiguous) WoL.
> 
> Kinda sorta **Shadowbringer spoilers?**

Genius. Suave. Pioneer of architectural design. Also the CEO of one of the largest and fastest growing coffee shop chains across the realm. 

All these things make up the man known as Emet-Selch and he took pride in his work. Some would say that talent of his level is almost prodigious and he would concur, agreeing rather easily if not for the sake of not having to expend further energy arguing with simpletons that didn’t know true skill if it hit them in the face.

It is in this reason then that makes you hesitate so much.

You have known the man since you two were just beginning to toddle. The bond between the two of you was nigh unbreakable in the eyes of others, but the truth couldn’t be any more simple. Rather, the only reason Emet has allowed your presence and company thus far was because you had made it such a habit of inserting yourself into his affairs for so long that he has long given up attempting to dissuade you from continuing to do so. In a way, it was a blessing because you have had the fortune of calling the man your best friend.

Though, his achievements are not without consequence. You hear the elders whispering behind your back in comparison. ‘ _How successful Emet-Selch has become while they on the other hand..._ ’ and ‘ _They should be happy that Emet-Selch is providing them with a job in these troubled times!_ ’ are among some of the _less painful_ commentary spoken when they thought you blissfully ignorant. 

Of course, you would have your doubts; your friend was on another level and it was only through his kindness that allowed you to remain employed. Truly, as much as you admired him, adored him and grew ever fond of him, he would never return your sentiments.

You admit your feelings to your mutual friend, Hyth (Hythlodeus, but he prefers not the formality), over a cup of coffee during your break and he gazes upon you with an amused expression. 

“Whatever makes you think that he would not return your feelings, my friend?” he asks.

You feel your cheeks flaring up, the skin burning as if a burning flame was brought dangerously close.

“Because he’s too good for someone like me!” you exclaim in kind, the admission nurturing the despondence growing within your chest. “He’s way too talented, way too brilliant, way too...too... _too much a feast for the eyes_ compared to how I am!”

“And what makes you say that?” another voice interjects.

You and Hyth turn your heads to source for the voice and your heart almost drops when amber eyes met your own. Emet was standing in front of you, arms crossed, and you were so engrossed in your passions that you hadn’t noticed your _boss_ approach you.

When you attempt to give him an excuse, he scowls and takes you by the arm to drag you from your seat to the back room. In the midst of your panic, Emet is calling out to Hyth to watch the store in the meanwhile and you peer over your shoulder in time to see your mutual friend waving the two of you away with a teasing, impish smile.

In moments, you were alone in the break room in the back and you were wringing your hands in front of the man. He heaved a sigh and stared hard at you once more.

“Well?” he spoke then.

You incline your head. “’Well’ what?”

Emet kisses his teeth and brushes locks of his hair behind his head. You noticed that he appeared to be troubled by his inner thoughts himself, his tell being the way that he often fiddles with his fingers in makeshift snap motions without releasing the actual sound. You didn’t know what reason would give cause for him to be so nervous despite his on-edge expression until he speaks again.

“The _only_ reason why I have done any of this was because of you.”

The confession has your eyes widening, the shock stunning you to silence as he continued.

“The one that pushed me to be better than I was has always been you. The one that had stood by my side with every struggle has always been you. With every project and every design, I had it in mind to whether or not you would be proud of the feat were I to accomplish it. So hearing you berate yourself like that is so...so... _frustrating_.”

When you could not yet speak coherent words, Emet heaved a heavy and helpless sigh as he leaned in towards you to rest his weary head on your shoulder.

“Look what you’ve made of me,” he chided, a biting tone that was more bark than anything. “A mess. A mess and yet I feel no different than from the first.”

After a moment, he pulls away and his face was inches from yours. So close that you can feel his breath and even felt the ghost of a heart beating against your skin. He was leaning in closer. Closer. _Closer._

“Are you lovebirds done yet?!” Hyth’s voice rang against the walls when he peeked into the room.

The both of you jumped in place, cheeks flushed and Emet quickly began chasing Hyth out in embarrassment. You remained still, hands pressed against your cheeks, and you smile. Despite being rudely interrupted, as was his wont, you did get something out of it.

You thank the heavens for this blessing.


	11. One Too Many (Haurchefant/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr ask prompt. Gender-neutral DRG WoL, gender-neutral child(ren). Future AU (where Haurchefant doesn't die q_q)

Your eldest thought that they would be the only one. They gave you and their father all the love that they could ask for. In kind, they’ve showered them in affections and spoiled them in a way that the child knew they were blessed. They were the perfect family.

So why is it that they deigned to have another?

The eldest watched as all of the attention was poured from them to their little sibling. Somewhere in the back of their mind, the eldest knew that it was because their sibling was still a suckling babe that their parents were doting on them, but they still couldn’t help but feel jealous.

At first, the eldest would resort to attempting to acquire accolades in training. The knights at Camp Dragonhead were kind enough to train the eldest, to actualize their dream of becoming a knight themselves. Haurchefant would nod his head in response, but wouldn’t give so much as a passing glance because his work would come first.

Then, the eldest would resort in mischief; setting up pranks around the manor such as hiding the baby powder when it was time to feed them or to set up noisemakers in the baby’s room when they’re sleeping. It’s only earned the ire of both their parents, especially you who had taken the role of the baby’s primary caretaker.

It wasn’t fair. Not at all.

It was in this that your eldest decided enough was enough. They filled a bug out bag with clothing, grab the sword that their grandsire had custom made for them and set off. They knew that the Temple Knights were performing a small military action in the Western Highlands, clearing out points of interests where the radical heretics of Lady Iceheart’s time sought to revive Saint Shiva.

Joining the joint exercise was easy; since Uncle Aymeric and Uncle Estinien weren’t leading the initiative, the eldest was able to blend in quite well in the small group that had been assigned. They obeyed every command, followed every direction to the T and soon they came upon an abandoned farmstead in the northern sector of Highlands.

But that was when everything went wrong.

The heretics used bears as a trap, allowing a mother and her cubs to reside in the basement. Extremely territorial, the mother bear made quick work of the front line and suddenly, the eldest is among only a small handful that yet remained standing.

When they attempted to retreat to call for reinforcements, they had the unfortunate luck of being surrounded by the heretics that had set up the traps, ready to shoot them down where they stood or impale them—if not offer them as tribute for the summoning.

It was in knowing true fear that the eldest wished that they weren’t so stubborn, that they wished they could just be honest and talk about how they felt. As the bears approached them, claws raised and ready, the eldest closed their eyes submitted to their fate...

...but it never came.

Rather, they felt arms wrap around their body and whisk them away quickly, the biting cold of the winds nipping at the bare skin of their cheeks. When the eldest opened their eyes once more and saw that you had them in your arms as you both sailed across the air, landing a little ways away. 

After you placed the eldest on the ground, you motioned to stand in front of them, reaching for the lance strapped to your back. In the background, you could hear your father’s commanding voice and the clinking of metal as the knights of House Fortemps and House Durendaire marched together.

“Lay down your arms!” you exclaimed to the heretics. “Ysayle... Lady Iceheart would have never wanted this and you know it!”

When they refused to response, the eldest watched as you jumped into the fray, vengeance in your eyes and a certain glint of _something_ akin to longing. When Haurchefant reached your child, asking if they were alright, your child couldn’t help but ask:

“Father, do you know them?”

Haurchefant frowned sadly and nodded. “We will talk about this later. For now, ready your blade, my child.”

“But why?” your eldest demanded. “I’ve been such a bad child... why would you come rescue me?”

Haurchefant laughed merrily, then motioned to pat the eldest’s head.

“Because, at the end of the day, my child, you are still our child and we still love you. Even if we were to have another child—maybe two or three—we still love you and we will love all of you equally.”

It was at this that your eldest began to tear up, the cold climes of the Highlands threatening to freeze the teardrops as soon as they were released, so the eldest stood tall, stood proud. They were ready to fight and make amends.

Together. With their family. 


	12. The Eighth Umbral Calamity (WoL/Various NPCs)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://ffxiv-ariavitali.tumblr.com/post/625922297678692352/hc-the-eighth-umbral-calamity) urged me to do this. I'm so sorry. Ambiguous WoL.
> 
>  **Shadowbringer spoilers** | Alternate universe: G’raha Tia and the Ironworks did not do research on the Crystal Tower and allowed the Eighth Umbral Calamity to run its course

> Premise: With the aid of you, the Warrior of Light, the Garleans had been pushed back, line by line, across accursed Ghimlyt Dark to the point where it was deemed that the Resistance would be able to fully wrestle control and claim victory by the turn of the season. As a result, the ally nations within the Eorzean and Far Eastern Alliance withdrew from the battlefield in order to return to their nation-state and to shore up defenses for any future hostilities that the Garlean Empire would retaliate with.
> 
> However, the nation leaders forgot the most important—and more arguably most _dangerous_ —aspect of mortal kind: their irrational unpredictability and desperation when they are backed up too far into the corner. By this logic did the Empire rain hell on the battlefield with the toxic gas, its potency inexplicably high and spared no one along the way…
> 
> ...Not even you, Warrior of Light. For when you had heard that your comrades were falling by the tens, by the hundreds, you had rushed to the front line as quickly as you could. You took precautions, your entire order did, that you thought would serve as defense against the poison, but it did not work. 
> 
> It did not work.

**[Aymeric]**

The _Black Rose_ spared no one on the front. It had been but a fortnight since he had returned to Ishgard when he received the news that the toxic gas had been let loose on the field and he couldn’t help the cold churning within his gut that something was going terribly, terribly wrong.

It was for this reason that he often visited Saint Reymanaud’s Cathedral. He prayed and he prayed to blessed Halone to show mercy, to offer Her guidance and protection in this most delicate of times. War often brought with it bloodshed of immeasurable quantities and faith in the divine had never been higher. Aymeric knew this. _He knew this._

In the end, his prayers were not answered for the sight of you utterly _destroyed_ him.

They brought your body back from the warzone and as you lay on the cold metal table, he swore that you were just asleep. Despite the wails of utter mortification, of pain and anger, from the Fortemps family—predominantly that of Lord Edmont, for the pain of losing yet another child of his family must be shattering him from within—he wanted to shake you awake because you appeared just as you always do when you would lie with him together in bed, so peaceful and so serene.

Yet, when he touched you—a palm against your cheek in the gentlest of manners, as if you were but a porcelain doll ready to fragment and shatter at any given moment—you were cold as ice.

Aymeric has never felt so empty, so broken, as if a dragon’s talon was impaling him over and over again without cease. The frustration within him broiled as if he was thrown into a blazing inferno for a sin he had not committed. In this entire ordeal, the same thoughts ring over and over again in his mind:

_Why has the Fury forsaken us? Have we not suffered enough? Why did you go alone?_

**_Why was I not there with you?_ **

In his frustration, and after a few punches to the wall, Aymeric takes up his sword once more and gives the order for a return march to the front. If he was correct in his thinking, the Alliance would be requesting reinforcements anyway and he could argue that he was taking the initiative. Though, all he wanted was revenge. He was going to have. It.

Even if he has to die trying.

**[Estinien]**

Estinien swore that he wasn’t going to reveal himself on the front lines. The dragoon swore that he was only going to remain in the shadows, plucking off the war machina that he knew would be aiming for your blind spot, as you fought and fought _and fought_ your way through your aches and exhaustion to reclaim the line that was regained by the Garleans.

In fact, he figured that it was only a matter of time, for you have allowed the returning Alliance members to push farther than they could have hoped for. In a way, it was almost as if the rumors of the soldiers dropping like flies was exaggerated overmuch, as rumors are wont to do in any given situation. So why?

_Why did he have such a heavy sense of foreboding?_

His instincts flared then, drawing him to attention, for there was a distinct change in the aether swirling about him emanating from the Garlean side. It was like a prickle, small like a leech, but he couldn’t shake it off. Soon enough, it was as if he was drowning on the inside the more he breathed in the scent of smoke and flame...smoke and flame…

When Estinien understood what was occurring, his head snapped towards where you were standing. With the amount of exertion you were displaying, the constant panting and pauses to catch your breath, you were in the most danger.

And his sense of foreboding proved true when you had collapsed to your knees on the battlefield.

Adrenaline pulsated within the dragoon’s blood, but even at his distance, he was growing weak. Darkness started spotting his eyes and he was growing dizzy, fatigued, exhausted.

_Not like this, not like this!_

The man mustered all his strength to vault into the air. It was shaky, even through his addled mind he knew this, but you were in danger. You were in danger. He won’t let you be in danger…!

A part of him registered landing by your side, scooping you up within his arms just before you were about to get hit by a magitek ray, and jumping into the air once more. However, he had used up all his energy just reaching you and the distance he wanted to put between you and the danger was nowhere near enough.

In the end, he had collapsed in some unseen corner of the battlefield close to Resistance Headquarters, with you on his lap and within his arms. At this point, even the inner dragon within was growing tame, growing lax, and it was then he knew that it was too late.

So, he pressed a kiss on your forehead, only noticing now that you were barely awake and crying in front of him and this caused him to shed tears of his own.

“Est...in...I…” you attempted.  
“Shh…” he whispered back meekly, holding you close as he felt himself fading away all the same.  
“I...love...sor-”  
“No…”

_No. I am sorry. **I** love you._

_I will not let you go alone._

**[Haurchefant] -** (AU where he’s still alive for the sake of this cursed post)

It was always tradition that the eldest son was to be the one selected to go into battle when there is a need for it. That being said, the role of the youngest son was to ensure that support was given where needed, but to focus predominantly on shoring up the defense on the home front. Haurchefant being the middle son, was duty-bound to serve on the front lines with Artoirel and he couldn’t be happier for the opportunity.

Or, at least, he _thought_ he couldn’t be happier.

When the Alliance had deemed it acceptable to leave the defense to the Resistance, allowing token forces to stay within headquarters to maintain an efficient communications network in case things were to go south, he attempted negotiating with the lord commander for him to stay. He wouldn’t admit that it was no more than an excuse to ensure he could always have your back during a fight and was no more surprised when Aymeric told him no with an amused smile on his face.

Before he left, he approached you for a temporary farewell. He will pray for your success, will pray for good fortune to you so that you may bring freedom to all of Eorzea in the face of the ones that wish to lock them all away like rabid dogs. After all, you had brought his people solace after a thousand-year-long war and he has no doubt that you would be able to do the same here.

Little did he know that the smile that you had given then and the words of reassurance you had spoken was to be the last he would have of you.

The next time you appeared before him, he was staring at your corpse on top of a metal table. His eyes were wide with disbelief, a part of him dying, detaching and breaking away from inside of him as a result. Even at the behest of his father, who urged him that it was alright to openly weep for the loss, he left the room to be on his lonesome, somehow wandering outside in the process.

_How could I have been so foolish? How could I not have known? How could this possibly happen?_

_...Why did I choose to follow propriety and not kiss you?_

Somehow, in his dark musings, Haurchefant ended up walking to his encampment and from the corner of his eye, he saw the entrance to the intercessory. The Falling Snows. The place that he had welcomed you to use when you sought his help.

He entered the hall and he collapsed to his knees almost immediately. All alone, he unravels his burdens, his pains and woes, along with punching the stone cold floors and walls, tossing anything and everything that he could in a fit of rage that he is unable to break away from. It took half a dozen knights to restrain him when he tried going after you searching for Shiva, and it took half a dozen more with the help of an anesthetic to force him to stop hurting himself now.

 _You needed me_ , he thought amidst the darkness. _You needed me...and I left you all alone._

**[Thancred]**

As planned, Thancred had taken a group of the most highly skilled Far Eastern operatives in order to carry out the subterfuge plan that he so easily proposed in front of the Alliance leaders. When you had approached him afterwards, urging him to be careful, he smiled and held you close.

“Worry not, I have done this before. I will ensure that I come back to you.”

All of the Scions knew protocol. Those participating in the espionage aspect of their order are issued a special set of linkpearl that are able to tap into multiple different frequencies if they knew the proper input code. With this, they are able to listen in to radio messages sent between different sectors of Garlemald’s imperial army…as well as receive coded messages from their allies safely and without any fear of being eavesdropped.

Then, one day and completely out of the usual norm, he had received a message from home base.

“BEACON. ROSE. GONE.”

Thancred knew that the mention of ‘beacon’ is a reference to you. While you may not know it, the rest of the order had decided this codename to reference you during missions because that’s what you were: a beacon of hope in the darkest times, lit up the brightest for those that can yet be saved.

‘Rose’ could only mean one thing, the Black Rose that had been brought to light thanks to Alphinaud’s efforts elsewhere on Garlean territory. The deadly poison was so potent that it was enough to utterly annihilate a group of insurgents seeking to revolt against the Empire. If anyone were to so much breathe it in, then-

‘Gone.’

Thancred’s heart almost gave way when he pieced the puzzle together. At this point, the mission was more or less complete as rumors of the puppet prince was beginning to gain traction, so he sent the order that the infiltrators remain on standby to ensure the fire was still burning as he returned.

Faster. Faster. _Faster!_

What greeted him upon his return to Seventh Heaven was what he didn’t wish for. Something that he couldn’t have ever imagined.

Your body was laid out on one of the beds in the medical wing, the other Scions—including Alphinaud—surrounding you in a circle. The twins were openly weeping, Alisaie being held in her brother’s arms. Y’shtola couldn’t bear to look, choosing to stand in the corner with Krile and Urianger’s consolations because it was so, so wrong to gaze upon your features without the glitter of your aether flowing from you.

“This has to be some sort of joke…” Thancred began as he approached your bedside. 

He called your name and when you didn’t respond, he reached out to hold your hand and found it eerily cold, like the Coerthan winter that you had escaped to after the bloody banquet. After he had failed Minfilia.

The thought tore him apart as he reached out to collect your body in his arms. This time, he allowed himself to cry in front of the others. He allowed himself this weakness that he forbade himself from feeling upon learning that Minfilia was gone. As he held you, his body was shaking, racking with sobs that was so painful to watch because of the fact that he would be the last one to show any emotion asides from frustration during a mission.

“I failed...I failed yet again...to save what I hold dear…”

With his words, the others couldn’t hold it in anymore. Their beacon of hope was lost.

You weren't coming back.

**[Hien]**

He was the one that urged Yugiri to remain in Eorzea to provide continuous aid to the Alliance granted the number of stationed shinobi in the region. Upon learning the Scions’ plan to infiltrate into Garlean territory, Hien was rather proud of his nation’s immediate ability to contribute in the war effort, in the name of freedom that you and yours had provided to his country.

When he received the news that the leftover defense of the line at Ghimlyt Dark was to be left to the Resistance, when Yugiri had returned to the Kienkan in order to personally deliver the message, he thought _finally_. Finally, his brothers and sisters have the upper hand and will no longer have to live in fear of those monsters that had taken so much from them for their delusional causes.

Oh, how cruel the kami must be.

You had been sending him letters the entire time. On the surface, it was to keep him updated on the war but he mostly wanted to make sure that you weren’t pushing yourself overmuch in a land where he isn’t able to easily reach. He would often tease in his letters that, should the next time you come to visit be of leisure, he will no longer be tempted to release you from his embrace once more. He wanted to hold you, he wanted to touch you, he wanted you to be safe.

Then, your letters stopped coming.

One day, two days, three days, ten, there was radio silence even from the Alliance and he was half tempted to send a runner to your homeland to bear word on what may be going on. The only thing that stopped him then was Lyse coming on her own volition, bearing the message herself.

“Hien, I’m sorry…” the woman began and there was a ringing growing louder in the Doman lord’s ears.  
“Lyse, do not—”  
“Hien, the Warrior—”  
“—I implore you, please stop—”  
“—because of _Black Rose_ —”  
“LYSE!”

Even as Hien stood to his feet, shouting the woman’s name from the top of his lungs with such disrespect in front of his ministers, Lyse continued eyeing him patiently. Painfully. For the words that were to escape her lips were unkind, unfair, and it makes him wonder what exactly the kami have planned for their people.

“...Hien, they are gone,” Lyse says softly, brokenly, with as much pain that he must have been feeling since she had worked with you for the majority of your journey as the Warrior of Light.

It only took but a moment for him to decide that he was going to return to Eorzea in the company of a contingent of soldiers. After all, if Lyse had decided to make a personal visit asides from passing the message along—which could have been done by any other Scion—then that meant that something had gone terribly wrong.

Prior to boarding the ship sailing for your homeland, Hien brings the letters that you had sent him all this time. In his private quarters, he reads them, over and over again. He could still hear your voice saying the words on the paper in his mind. Even as he spilled tears as he read the words, he could still hear you.

_He wishes that he could hear your voice again._


	13. The Rising (OC & WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Rising 2020 :)

After speaking with the Minstrel and attempting to return to the festivities, the fireworks show caught the woman’s attention as she peered up towards the starry night sky.

As her gaze panned up to the painted canvas of the heavens above, she could faintly hear a the song of longing—a hymn sung by the people, to the people, for the people. She remembered this song, one that resonated with her in the olden days of the Calamity some years past.

Where was she during this time amidst the Calamity? It must have been Gridania. She was in Gridania, caring for her late and sickly father while her older brother was on a guards mission with the Wood Wailers in Twelveswood.

His last words, for her to live the life she had desired and to someday reach the vistas of Coerthas that he and her late mother had met echoed in her mind. She remembered the trials and tribulations she had encountered and overcome, that have touched and scarred her heart alike.

This was her answer. It had to be.

“It has to be...” the woman whispered softly, a wistful expression contorting her face.

A familiar figure came up from behind her, a man of wine red hair and heterochromatic eyes the color of night and day. A scar crossed diagonally on his face, from temple to lower chin.

“My lady,” he called, offering a curt bow.

Aria smiled softly. “Rayne, is aught amiss?”

The man shook his head, stepping forward to stand at the woman’s side as he watched the fireworks.

“You have thieved my question, my lady,” her guard replied. “So, I will ask: Is your mind plagued with forlorn thoughts?”

Aria blinked and shifted her attention away from the man, her eyes dimming of the sparkle that it had as she had parted from the group of festival-goers to speak with the Minstrel.

“You are attuned overmuch to my state of being,” she attempted to jest before releasing a sigh. “But you are correct. There are...too many voices within my mind as of late.”

“Such as?”

“The past, the present and the future.”

The man turned his head to eye her before he took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb on the back of hers reassuringly. With the way the two of them are interacting with one another, it would appear as if they’ve danced this dance before, of a protector reassuring their charge of the decisions they’ve made, of the oaths they have sworn and the convictions that have grounded her.

With this, it only took but a moment for Aria to shift her gaze towards the man, an expression with such intense vulnerability and yet was filled with immense trust. In turn, he smiled.

“We cannot change what once was and we cannot hope to know what will happen tomorrow, but I do know this, my lady—with the way that my lady is now and the stories have been recounted by Lord Stryder, I am certain that your sires are proud of how far you have come.”

Aria’s amethyst eyes widened in slight surprised before they relaxed the more she indulges in his words. When comprehension began taking her, her chin tilted downwards and she offered a small stretch of her lips.

“To rise above circumstance...” she whispered.

“To rise above circumstance,” he answered.

With this, and in silence, the two turned their attention towards the sky to watch the fireworks. No words are needed.

She remembered her answer.


	14. Mal du Pays (Cardinal Virtue Hunters & WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **homesick** [ **hohm** -sik]: _adjective_ "sad or depressed from a longing for home or family while away from them for a long time."

There would be little moments every now and then, ones that she would acknowledge the minute that she begins experiencing it. It was a cold emptiness eating away at her like winter, a starved beast denied food for disobedience, an ache that only got worse over time rather than healed.

Aria would be reminded when she would see couples going about their day, when parents would dote on their younglings in the city states. She never held anything against them, for it is they to which she fights so fervently on the front line.

(To preserve the smiles of the people of the realm was her ultimate goal. Although it took her a while to reach that point and be confident of her decision, needless to say that it befits her status as the Warrior of Light.)

However, as much as the citizens would otherwise, she missed the gentle snowfall and grey clouds. She missed the crackling of firewood burning in a hearth and the hot chocolate that would be prepared the moment she would step through the front door.

Most of all, she missed the people that she had to leave behind—the family that had taken her in when she and hers needed them most, her brother that could only pray for her safety and do what he can with the Scions left behind...and a lover that had responsibilities just as important as she to attend to.

Aria knew that Aymeric accepted this of her the moment he had asked her to be his. In fact, the second that he discovered that it was the Warrior of Light—and all her titles that could fill a ledger all on its own—that he had fallen for, he should have come to expect it. It didn’t stop the guilt from shaming her and a part of her wondered if she should cut back on her adventuring just a tad to spend more time with him albeit his assurances to remain exactly as she was.

It was then that the sound of a voice snapped her back to attention from her innermost thoughts. When she shifted her head to see what it was, the other hunters of the Cardinal Virtues—Granson, Giott, Lue-Reeq, Taynor, Cerigg and Cyella—eyed her with both concern.

“Is everything alright?” the Dark Knight asked of her, worry glistening in his eyes despite his hardened expression.

Aria smiled softly and inclined her head. “Indeed, pardon my inattentiveness. I was lost in thought.”

Taynor leaned in, unable to school his emotions.

“Maybe some rest would be a good idea?” he asked.

“A tankard of ale would be more than enough, eh, friend?” Giott laughed merrily as she downed one of her own.

Lue-Reeq frowned and shook his head. “I daresay it would make her feel worse rather than better.”

“What did you say?!” the dwarf exclaimed aggressively.

The sight of the two’s bantering was enough to bring good cheer to the table as Cyella leaned in to the Warrior as if to tell a secret.

“Perhaps a return home is in order, is it not?” she offered to her.

Aria pondered on that thought, inclining her head, and the sight of it was enough to catch the attention of the others in the group. Her girlish and innocent appearance caught them off guard, a look unlike that of a seasoned warrior that was a master of multiple martial arts across the realm.

“I think it might just be,” Aria replied excitedly in a soft voice.

Everyone smiled. She could finally rest.

She could finally go home.


	15. Leviathan (WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **leviathan**  
>  [ li- **vahy** - _uh_ -th _uh_ n ]  
>  _noun_  
>  \- anything of immense size and power.
> 
> or, alternatively
> 
> the water snek that brought trouble because of head and tail.

The first time that Aria beheld the creature, she wished for nothing more than to place a thousand curses on the Sahagin tribe that summoned the thrice-damned maniacal monstrosity. Surely she would spare Clutchfather Novv and the brothers and sisters she had made being donned the chieftain’s daughter and he certainly wouldn’t mind if the greater evils of their territory were to spontaneously drop one by one.

Now, as she stands before this recollection--standing atop a platform created by Eden in the plan to restore the Empty, lovely Ryne watching eagerly and worriedly at the primals that her role model has negotiated with and put to the sword all the same--and is quite amazed with how abysmal her memory seems to be.

“This is a cruel joke, it must be,” the Hyuran woman complained, heaving a sigh as the two-headed recreation manifested before her. “Was I hit too hard in the head somewhere along the way? Have my battles melded and meshed together so much that they are now indistinguishable…? Nay, if it had, Fray would have made mention of it and not allowed it to pass me by-”

“I hate to interrupt your little monologue, Aria dear, but it would seem that this two-headed creature you conjured up is preparing to attack.”

Thancred’s voice in her ear via linkpearl was enough to snap the woman out of her reverie in time for her to realize that the creature was beginning to charge up a torrential beam of pure devastation right at her face and at eighty percent of the arena that was generously given to her. 

With an exasperated sigh, the woman reached out to retrieve the lance that she carried on her back--to which she had so curiously named _Bahamut_ in honor of a memory, a power and a memory more--and _Elusive Jumped_ out of harm’s way. The moment that she landed perfectly on her feet, she felt the blood of the dragons boiling within her, a call to battle that would have rivalled the dark wyrm of vengeance for all intents and purposes.

At least, at this point in time.

“Thank you, Thancred, for the alert,” Aria jested, positioning herself to battle stance.

In turn, she heard the man’s laughter--a tone masking worry that she had come to he would do in all their time together--coming from the line.

“If I see so much as a scratch on you, I will have you paying for our meals tonight and I assure you it would be costly!”

Aria rolled her amethyst eyes at the comment and felt the rumblings of Leviathan’s roars beneath her feet. Even then, she felt another emerging from within her, a spirit and hidden creature of her own urging for her permission, demanding it; offering to her grand power and strength that had been hoarded and amassed during her resting period--for the power of the dragons goes with consequence, as is with the attunement of one soul crystal to another unleashing unfathomable strengths and debilitations.

Yet, it would not stop her in a thousand years. Not even a thousand’s thousand years.

“Understood,” she answered back.

Then, she soared.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Curious Gaze](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231063) by [voidsparda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidsparda/pseuds/voidsparda)




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